A Thorn In My Side
by y0ungandwreckless
Summary: In an instant Thorne had Clove pinned to the ground, Cato regarded her with a cool levelheadedness but beneath that Thorne could see his concern for Clove. She had him. "Don't underestimate me," Her eyes shone. "I wouldn't dream of it," Cato smirked.


Author's Note: Hey Y'all!

This was previously on the account of XsilenceOisOaOscaryOsoundX but I will be continuing it on this account.

This is a first attempt at a Hunger Games fanfic. It's Cato/OC and a little bit AU. It's really disappointing because on Microsoft Word this is five pages and on here it's so short!

Either way I hope you enjoy reading it. Any reviews are welcome :)

Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.

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Thorne stood pressed against the familiar bodies of her sixteen year old classmates. She felt like a caged animal, patiently awaiting its slaughter. She could feel the gazes of a couple of girls on her and avoided eye contact. The reaping wasn't a day to make new friends. She looked down at herself, faintly aware of the anthem playing in the background. Thorne picked at the wrinkled white cotton of her dress trying to ignore the heat and nervous energy coming off the bodies surrounding her.

A large redhead on her right side had developed a nervous twitch and had taken to jerking her leg against Thorne's own. It was sure to leave a bruise, but she didn't have the heart to snap at the anxious girl. Instead Thorne directed her gaze at the ocean that touched the edges of District Four. The sun glimmered off the water in a blindly array of light and small waves broke along the shore. It was eerily calm as though it too were waiting for the names of the tributes to be announced.

District Four had always been home to Thorne. Her first memories were of the ocean. Her father had thrown her in and for a moment she had felt herself sinking into the darkness, the water pressing down on her. Thorne's eyes had snapped open and she saw the light shining above the surface of the breaking wave and heard her father's voice, "Kick" and so she did.

Thorne felt powerful in the water, despite her slight figure she could out swim most of the boys her age. Swimming was as natural as breathing. On nights she couldn't sleep, plagued by nightmares, Thorne would walk to the beach and lay on a sand dune. It was there she would watch the stars dance across the night sky and listen to the sound of the waves crashing against the shore until she fell asleep.

She couldn't imagine the Capitol with its high rise buildings and paved streets, in fact she hardly thought of the Capitol at all except for the Reaping day. The sea was her home. The Capitol could keep its elaborate styles, rich food and wealthy citizens as long as Thorne had the ocean.

Thorne's attention was dragged away from the ocean at the sound of a throat being cleared into the microphone. Her eyes immediately flew to the man sent by the capital that occupied the temporary stage fixed in the district's center. His voice boomed out over the loudspeaker but Thorne paid no attention she had heard the words since she was twelve.

She fixated on the small man's appearance; his skin was so tan that he would have almost blended in with the fish folks of District Four if not from the peacock feathers that seemed to sprout from his head in the place of hair. She chewed thoughtfully on her finger nail considering whether or women in the Capitol would find his style attractive. Thorne was grateful for any distraction from the events that were unfolding before her, but the increased fluttering of her heart and sweat that beaded on her palms did not go unnoticed.

She heard a loud gasp from a girl a few rows back as Octavian Dearborn, the man sent by the Capitol, dipped his almost womanly hand into the container with each of the female tributes neatly printed name. Thorne focused her eyes on the feathers, trying to discern whether they were real feathers, anything to distract her from the reaping.

Despite her valiant attempts Thorne was unable to keep her eyes off of Octavian's slow dramatic opening of the compactly folded piece of paper. Octavian looked out over the crowd of tightly packed girls as if he was expecting to match the name with a face. He leaned close to microphone, a delighted smile crept onto his face. "Our greatly anticipated female tribute," Octavian Dearborn paused and with a twinkling laugh announced, "Thorne Laurent."

At once a thousand pairs of eyes were upon Thorne. A large lump formed at the base of her throat and she swallowed several shallow gulps of air. For the first time she looked out at the crowd in hopes someone would take a course of action or deny this terrible nightmare. It was now her gaze which was avoided by the girls around her. It was quiet, Thorne slowly and painstakingly put one foot in front of the air. A wide path was formed around her, as though whatever she had was catching.

There was a loud crash of a breaking wave on the shore. Her mind was screaming at her, telling her to run. It be useless to try she knew, the Peacekeepers would gun her down without a second thought. If she could just get to the water, she thought, they wouldn't be able to catch her then but she didn't dare. The walk to the stage felt like a lifetime.

On the stage Octavian wrapped an arm around her and gave her a reassuring smile. She wanted to pry his long slender fingers off her but Thorne restrained. "Are there any volunteers out there to step forward in the place of this lovely young woman?" Octavian addressed the crowd. He sounded miles away to Thorne. He was greeted by silence. She hadn't expected anything different, loyalty only went so far in The Hunger Games.

On occasion District Four had been known to produce Careers but no one volunteered to take Thorne's place. Her eyes traveled over the crowd until she caught sight of a fifteen year old Career. She was Thorne's one chance, but under Thorne's fierce gaze the young Career gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. She would not volunteer.

Thorne didn't know what to make of the Career's refusal. Was she too young? Thorne wondered at the endless possibilities. Perhaps the Career's refusal meant someone though Thorne stood a fighting chance, but she feared that was only wishful thinking.

Once in the arena, would she turn into a ruthless killing machine in the quest to return home? Thorne didn't like her odds.

Octavian turned abruptly and still smiling dug his hand into the container of boys' names. Thorne held her breath. This time Octavian Dearborn got down to business without delay, "And out lucky male tribute is," he paused glancing down at the small print, "Mika Siren."

A bulky boy of roughly seventeen lumbered to the stage. His face held no expression but upon closer examination Thorne noticed his blue eyes threatened to overflow. Thorne swallowed loudly, it was a moment of weakness but Mika was a skilled oarsman which attributed to his massive forearms. It was boys built like Mika that Thorne would have to face inside the arena.

Once again Octavian Dearborn asked the crowd for volunteers and once again the crowd grew unearthly silent. Thorne and Mika shook hands stiffly to the sound of half-hearted applause from the district. Their sentence was final.

They were whisked away almost instantly by Peacekeepers from the Capitol and it wasn't until Thorne was alone in a room in the Mayor's building did the reality of her situation fully sink in. She sat down on a wooden bench and placing her head in her hands attempted to halt the oncoming panic attack. It was then the door opened and a familiar face wrapped his arms around her. Thorne looked up into Isaiah's eyes and could not stop the tears from running in rivulets down her cheeks.

He didn't say anything for a moment, he just held her. "I can't do this, Isaiah," Thorne's voice hitched, "I watched him die and Lyle was fearless, I'm not fearless." Isaiah shook his head in disagreement. He knew who she was speaking of. A year before Thorne's brother had been drawn from the reaping and a year before she had watched him die a brutal death. Her strong golden haired brother, who everyone believed the sun rose and set with, had suffered a fate Thorne now faced.

Isaiah had been Lyle's best friend. Isaiah spoke softly, "You're going to make it out of there Thorne. You're smart and quick. All you have to do is outlast the others." Thorne shook her head and laughed bitterly. She had spent her entire life on the water not training for battle. "Promise me you won't give up," Isaiah's brown eyes bore into Thorne's hazel ones. He had been like a brother to Thorne after her own brother's death. Thorne looked away unable to answer, she knew her chances were slim. Isaiah grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, "Promise Thorne." He commanded. Thorne said nothing instead she traced the outline of his smooth in her mind, memorizing the golden flecks in his deep brown eyes, the dimples of his cheek and his mass of brown curls. Thorne tried to stop herself from wondering whether it was the last she would see of him.

"I promise," Thorne said her voice raspy. Isaiah enveloped her body in a warm embrace for the last time before he was lead away by the Peacekeepers.

Next was her father, he stood by the room's only window looking out at the ocean. His back was straight, unyielding and his long blonde hair braided neatly down his back in the fisherman style. Thorne wondered if he had done the very same thing a year ago in this room. He was a man of few words, more comfortable in the water among the fish than on land among his family. Thorne hesitantly placed her hand on her father's shoulder. He awoke from his trace and still looking out of the window, simply said, 'Come back to me." His voice was deep and forceful but underneath it Thorne could hear the small thread of desperation.

Thorne pressed her lips together and counted to ten to keep from crying before she spoke. "I promise." When Thorne was escorted from the room, her eyes were clear and her head high. She did not look hard or uncaring nor did she look weak. She was simply innocent. Let the Capitol see her as a young girl about to face an unspeakable horror with a look of serenity about her, Thorne thought.

Aboard the train Octavian Dearborn greeted the tributes with a large smile, "The excitement! I can hardly contain myself!" He clapped his hands together gleefully and gestured them to follow. They were lead two train cars over into an extravagant room lined with Capitol delicacies. Thorne peered around Mika for a better look. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened, "Lyl-" Thorne cut herself off. The man seated at the table was the spitting image of her dead brother. As she approached she recognized him to be Finnick O'dair, District Four's mentor. Although he had the same hair and blue eyes as Thorne's brother the similarities ended once Finnick opened his mouth.

"The two of you look like death warmed over," Mika said nothing in response and Thorne's eye widened considerably. Thorne looked at Finnick in disbelief, did he expect them to be glowing with happiness? The girls of District Four raved about Finnick; his looks, his charm and his popularity. As he sat before her, Thorne couldn't deny Finnick was attractive but as he sat in front of her dressed in finery casually draped across a chair, her eyes filled with contempt. He was a Capitol lap dog, who had all but forgotten his days as a tribute.

"I'm sorry but should we be overjoyed?" Thorne snapped. Octavian Dearborn frowned looking upset over the possibility of conflict. Thorne found his expression ironic considering Octavian involvement in The Hunger Games.

The room went quiet and Thorne began to regret her hasty words when a deep chuckle sounded from Finnick. "I like a girl with some fight in her." He smirked at Thorne, his white teeth gleaming.

Thorne took a deep breath, serene, she thought. It was all she could do not to jump down Finnick's throat. They were speeding to nearly certain death and their mentor was treating Thorne like a child.

It was then Mika spoke up, "Are you going to teach us how to stay alive or continue insulting us?" His voice was a low rumble. Without another word, he seated himself and began to pile a large helping of Capitol delicacies onto a plate.

It was now Thorne's turn to smirk at Finnick. She was beginning to enjoy Mika's company. He was a quiet giant but he said what needed to be said. The smirk slid off of her face, s_he was beginning to enjoy Mika's company_. She pushed Mika from her mind, the less she thought of anyone but herself the better.

Thorne excused herself and forced herself to the walk at normal pace to her room. Inside she carefully shut the door and collapsed onto the bed. The soft down of the mattress surrounded her and Thorne buried her face in it. She wanted to scream. The emotions she had pushed down threatened to resurface. The anger and fear boiled under her skin, making her hot and then sending shivers down her spine. There was a knock at the door.

"Go away!" Thorne enunciated, she was no mood to see anybody. The door opened despite her command and her mentor leaned casually against the doorframe. "I don't recall inviting you in." Thorne said haughtily.

"But here I am anyway, sweetheart." Finnick's eyes glinted mischievously. He grew suddenly somber, "Your brother was a tribute," Finnick paused looking Thorne in the eyes, "wasn't he?" He was answered by silence. "I thought he could win it, you know." Finnick continued. "He was strong and fast. He slung an arm around my shoulder like an old friend and told me he was going to win."

Thorne tried to tune him out but his words cut her like knives. What did this Capitol bastard know about her brother?

"Everyone loved him from the second he stepped into that arena…"Finnick trailed off.

Finally Thorne couldn't stand it, she got to her feet and pointed to the door. "Get out now!" Her voice was raised and fire was in her eyes. She hated Finnick in that moment, talking about her brother like he knew him. Finnick should have brought him home. Finnick made no move for the door.

Thorne stepped up to him, a determined look on her face. There were only a few inches between them and Thorne could feel the heat emanating off of his body. Fire shone in her eyes, "It's your fault," she finally spit out. "You could have saved him! Trained him better," She was near hysterics, "Done something!"

Thorne pushed Finnick out of her room, she wouldn't let him see her cry. His chest was firm and she could feel the steady beat of his heart but he did not resist. "I'll get it right this time," Finnick said softly without a trace of his usual cockiness in his voice.


End file.
